


Moonfall

by GKingOfFez



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, OCs Abound, Star Wars Big Bang, Star Wars Big Bang 2020, Yavin 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GKingOfFez/pseuds/GKingOfFez
Summary: In the lead up to the Battle of Yavin, Bassa Lam finds herself torn between doing the right thing and keeping the person she loves most in the galaxy safe.or. An outsiders perspective of the events on Yavin IV during Rogue One and A New Hope, feat. my beautiful OC daughters Bassa and Daze.FOR THE STAR WARS BIG BANG 2020!
Relationships: Bassa Lam/Daze See, OC/OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Star Wars Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stardustgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/gifts).



> Written as part of the Star Wars Big Bang 2020.

**_Prologue: Overview_ **

* * *

The fourth moon of Yavin, a quiet system in the Gordian Reach, was far from the Galactic core and even further from the minds of most sentient beings in the galaxy.

It was a jungle moon, not unlike the billions of other of its kind; habitable by most species, with an environment teeming with life and yet untouched by the industrial machine of galactic progress for the reason that there simply wasn’t enough valuable resources on it to turn any kind of profit. For this reason, everyone from private industries to the Republic and later the Empire had never gone further beyond a basic survey- it was barely anything, a footnote on every known galactic map, just another entity orbiting one of the billions of stars of any given night sky.

Which, of course, was the very reason the Alliance To Restore The Republic had chosen it for Base One.

Zooming in through the atmosphere, the moon’s weather was generally humid and wet, the thick rainforest hoarding moisture that permeated the air through most hours of the day and snapped into an uncomfortable chill in the night.

The pyramid temple, one of many across the moon’s surface had been built and abandoned thousands of years ago by the Massani people, and was now a hub of buzzing life, a beating heart thumping with the footsteps of engineers, starfighters, droids and refugees from all across the galaxy. Ships of all shapes and sizes, from one-man fighters to industrial freighters, had graced the landing platforms, some with regularity and others that left to never return again.

If you asked the Empire, they were all there unlawfully, a hive of terrorists and traitors undermining the true authority. But the reality was that every resident of Base One was there for a reason- loss, vengeance, justice, duty or a thousand other prompts the Empire had forced upon them. They were a melting pot of ambition and talent boasting everything from Clone War veterans to Imperial defectors to even lowly farmers armed with blasters and kids barely old enough to fly who’d never known a free galaxy.

Every single one of them, consciously or not, held hope in their hearts and minds- hope that they could actually make a difference; that the Emperor could be defeated and the Republic restored; that their planets and families could be liberated from tyranny and fear.

However, as time went by and the Alliance grew, so did the chance that the Empire would discover them. There were safety protocols in place, of course- early warning systems and monitored hyperspace lanes and carefully planned evacuation procedures- but the bare truth was that no amount of hope, optimism or shielding would keep them safe.

It was in the back of everyone’s minds, conscious or not: that the Empire would come too quickly and too powerfully and Yavin IV could turn from a sanctuary of hope to a bloody tomb in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! I've had this story planned out for years, and decided that the Big Bang was the perfect kick to finally materialise it. The story will be completely up over the next day or so, so stay tuned.
> 
> Big thanks to my collaborators StardustGirl (who's nice little edit I will include in a later chapter) and DixieLullaby for being patient with my anxious and procrastinating brain over the past few months. The whole global pandemic thing did not help my state of mind at all, but the fic is done, so I'm happy and excited for that.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who reads this, Bassa and Daze are very important to me and I've put a lot of work into them.
> 
> -G~


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter One: 6 Days BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin)** _

* * *

Bassa Lam was tired of being sweaty. It clung in the worst places, in her armpits, the gaps between her neck and montrals, under her headpiece and in her boots. The humidity was especially apparent after rainfall when walking through the dense jungle surrounding the temple, far away from the climate control of the inner base, making it one of the worst places to be.

“Why do we have to be out here? I mean, did they really need _you_ to run a diagnostic on the relay, Daze?” Bassa asked.

The human woman trudging along beside her sighed. “For the third time, Bass, I _volunteered_. Troyer’s off-world, remember, and Anders got called to a briefing by the Generals,” Daze pushed at a few buttons on her datapad. “It was half an hour out of my day and we’re going to be back to base before sundown, so quit complaining and have a nice walk with me.”

“And another thing!” insisted Bassa, turning up her nose as her boots squelched ominously below her, thinking of all the stories she had heard in the mess about people needing to walk back to base barefoot because they hadn’t tied their shoes properly. “They could have gotten someone else from the team who wasn’t off, like Trinitee or Wester. Or sent a droid, isn’t running diagnostics one of their favourite things to do.”

“C3-AKR’s feet joints can’t handle the mud, I’ve told you this,” Daze shot back with exasperation.

“So program a droid that hovers to get the data,” said Bassa, carefully navigating over a large root across the path before reaching for Daze’s shoulder to make sure she was steady. “It’s _your_ off-day, you should be relaxing and catching up on sleep and holovids, not having to slog through mud for some menial task.”

“ _Moons_ , you have giant montrals but you never listen. Bass, that relay is a key piece in encoding all incoming and outgoing transmissions, if it’s not properly looked after there’s potential security risks. It’s _important_.”

“Yeah, and so is you getting some time off every once in a while!” bit back Bassa. “It’s not like you’re getting _paid_ to be stuck on some kriffing jungle moon decoding dangerous transmissions from the Empire, but they’re still working you like it’s a million credit job.”

Daze stopped, mud squelching under her boots. She folded her arms.

“You’re fretting again, aren’t you love?”

Bassa scoffed. “I don’t ‘fret’.”

“Yes you do. You’re fretting because you’re worried about me.”

It took all Bassa’s pride not to admit she was right.

Daze’s face softened. “I know I’ve been working too much lately, we all have. It feels like any day now we could make our first big move and be discovered by the Empire. I’ll take a proper off-day with you soon, okay. I promise.”

Bassa puffed out a loud breath.

“You better. Or next time I’ll make you.”

Daze gave her a shoulder nudge and flashed a cheeky smile that made Bassa’s heart skip as they continued trudging through the jungle.

Daze See, proficient technician (even more proficient tech-hacker when it was needed), human, female and the love of Bassa Lam’s life.

She was shorter than Bassa by a good head, with dark brown hair, brown eyes and what some people had assured her were unremarkable and plain features for the human species. Those same people often went on to say that Bassa herself, a strong Togrutan with bright yellow skin, clear markings and akul tooth trophies hanging on a long chain around her neck and across her headpiece, could do a lot better, and said people were always lucky to leave her presence with anything less than a broken nose. Bassa had travelled a good chunk of the galaxy, seen and done a lot of things she regretted, but it had become clear to her over the past cycle or so that the best thing she had ever done was fall in love with Daze See.

It was a relief when they finally made it to solid ground and wiped the gunk off their boots on the ancient stones surrounding the base. As they walked the edge of the landing platform, a freighter lifted gently higher into the air above, its engines blazing to life as it reached a safe altitude and began zooming towards the stars, leaves rippling in the wind in it’s wake.

The walk inside was quiet between them, the familiar hum of conversation, droid beeps, growing louder the closer they got to the heart of the operation, the smell of starship fuel growing as the murky jungle mud scent receded.

Base One was a mishmash of old and new; the ancient Massanian structure, built manually by slaves with stone that nature had began to reclaim since clashed with the transplanted modern technology of the Alliance. Hover-crates stood, stacked and stored at the back of the main hanger, which itself housed ships of every size and was criss crossed with fuel cables, small transport cars and mechanics repairing carbon scoring on blackened hulls.

“I’ve been missing that kebab place lately. You know the one in the Glyddian market?” said Bassa, as they wound their way through the busy hallways. “Mr Frazzel’s special sauce really was something I didn’t appreciate enough while I had it.”

“Yeah, I remember. It’s too bad we can’t ever go back to Glyddia without being shot, you loved that place,” Daze replied, as the door to the Info-Tech office opened in front of them and they stepped in.

Bassa huffed. “Can’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed back, _I’m_ not the one who wiped the gang’s critical databases.”

“No, love, but you _are_ the one who provided the cover fire.”

“Oh yeah, I did do that,” Bassa said with a grin.

The Info-Tech room wasn’t the busiest or biggest wing of the Rebellion, as a glance into its central office could probably tell. It was a fairly small set up, the stone walls exposed and decorated with a faded Massanian mural which, like the rest of the base, was spliced with the wires, grey consoles and glass screens of technology. The Info-Tech team itself handled a lot of the Alliance’s data management, from intercepting and interpreting Imperial transmissions, analysing schematics and other important data points that the Rebellion relied on.

The team who occupied the room were all highly skilled at what they did and Daze had become quite friendly with them - from the leader Captain Anders (no nonsense to the point of irritation); Troyer, the quick talking Rodian (Bassa had never know any sentient who could consume so much caf and still function at such a high mental capacity); Wester, a young human man, (talented with a soldering iron and data streams, but concerningly quick to panic under any kind of pressure); Trinitee, a Twi’lek with an eidetic memory and seemingly endless connections (she was who Daze had gotten closest too, and Bassa still hadn’t decided yet if she should be jealous at all) and finally; C3-AKR, a refurbished bronze protocol droid that Anders had brought with him (definitely had some screws missing and needed to be muted more).

Bassa had met them all in the sole interest of making sure Daze was safe with them, and couldn’t go into nearly as much detail about her own co-workers, a more informal squad of troopers mainly used as backup ground support on larger missions. Most of them were green recruits who were shorter than her, anyway, so she wasn’t missing much.

In the Info-Tech room, Daze made a beeline for her personal desk, sitting down and immediately plugging in the datapad, tapping the screen to begin a data transfer and bringing up the display on her desktop to carefully monitor it. Bassa settled in as well, leaning in her usual spot against the wall, where she could keep an easy eye on both Daze and the room at large.

The room was quiet- Wester tapped away quietly as his own console across the way, and there was little else noise-wise besides the hum of data modules and servers.

Boredom and the urge to get Daze’s attention rose, and instead she idly rubbed at the scarred tissue on her left lek. It had been years since she’d removed the tight jewelled lekku bands her father had forced on her as a child, but their influence still remained despite multiple bacta treatments. The scars sat parallel to the akul-tooth trophy on her necklace- it had been the first one she’d ripped from the beast’s mouth after she’d killed it, both a reminder and monument to her own strength, no matter how much she’d doubted herself that day.

The slight movement of the the novelty bobble-head of a tooka next to Daze’s keyboard wobbling caught Bassa’s eye, and she turned to look at it just as the door hissed open and Anders walk in.

“You’re back. Good,” he said loudly, walking towards them.

Daze snapped out of her work immediately, jumping to her feet. “Yes sir, just transferring the data now.”

“That’s not what I’m here about, but good work Lieutenant See. Now, if I remember correctly, you said you have experience with tracing down sentient life forms? Specifically, in tracing individual people with limited data?”

“She’s pretty kriffing good at it, in my opinion,” chimed in Bassa. “I’ve seen her trace down everything from crafty bail skippers to an amnesiac’s entire life before he lost his memory a few years ago. She’s amazing, although I will admit to some personal bias there, we do share a bed.”

“Yes sir. I have a bit of experience with that,” Daze replied, with a warning look to Bassa and a pink tinge on her cheeks. “May I ask why you’re asking, sir?”

“The higher ups have given us a priority assignment, and with Troyer off-world, I’m down a hand. You mentioned last week that you were eager for some more challenging assignments than the analysis we’ve had you doing?”

Bassa frowned. Daze hadn’t told her that.

“Well, Daze,” continued Anders. “Here’s your challenge. Gather what you need and follow me.”

“Now, wait a minute there, Anders,” interjected Bassa, all trace of amusement having drained from her face as she straightened. “I don’t know if you know, but it’s her off-day. She should be relaxing for once, not doing extra work for the kriffing council.”

She stepped forward and drew up to her full, intimidating height, a few solid inches above him. For his part, he stood his ground, stone faced and immovable. It was sometimes hard to tell that he was ex-Imperial, but here it was on full display.

“And this is a matter of life and death, Lieutenant Lam. Fulcrum has delivered us vital information that may very well be key to the survival of the rebellion and we need every able hand working-”

“She’s been working non-stop for weeks! Find someone else, I’m sure Wester wants a chance to show off!” Bassa gestured in Wester’s direction, and he ducked out of view from where he’d been peeking out in curiosity.

She rounded on Anders. “Or better yet, tell _Cassian Andor_ he can shove his vital information up his-”

“Alright, enough!” cried Daze. “Bassa, please calm down and listen.” She grabbed Bassa’s arm and pulled her around so they were face to face. “My off-day doesn’t matter, I’ll request one in replacement in a couple of days, ok. Anders is right, I’m an able hand and I _want_ to help, like I did with the relay, like with everything I, _we_ have been doing here. It’s all important for the Alliance, for the Rebellion.”

Bassa had to swallow back an acidic reply at that.

They hadn’t meant to end up on Yavin, after all. Bassa been hearing about the Alliance for years before it had a name, from the guerrilla attacks on Imperial shipments to the Lothal transmission and the whispered rumours of Jedi and rebels that flew like pests across spaceports.

She and Daze had built a little life of the mining planet of Oteport,which had ended with a violent Imperial run in. They’d ended up on Yavin IV, the very heart of the Rebellion, but Bassa had never felt at ease there in the way the other residents seemed to.

A few weeks. They’d only meant to stay a few weeks, to regroup and recover before finding somewhere else to live, but Daze had wanted to stick around; she had useful skills and experience that they needed, had practically jumped into Info-Tech the moment Anders had asked her too, and had made friends with her team and everyone around her in a way Bassa was almost envious of. She’d never been the most naturally friendly person.

Daze had even taken to wearing the light blue and black vested uniform of the Alliance, the red emblem proudly sown on her shoulder, while Bassa still wore her own clothes and battle scuffed bronze mercenary armour.

Truth be told, if it weren’t for her girlfriend, Bassa truthfully would have blown this system months ago. But the woman refused to leave, a fire had settled behind her brown eyes that Bassa had never truly seen before.

Said eyes were now stubbornly narrowed as she gazed into them. Daze was especially stubborn for a human, which was saying something considering how known they were for stubbornness. It would have taken Bassa more strength than she’d had as a girl taking down her first Akul with nothing but her hands and teeth to dissuade the woman before her.

That was part of the reason she’d fallen in love so deeply in the first place.

“I know,” Bassa sighed, softening, her shoulders sagging. “I know it’s important. I’m sorry.” She was only partly lying.

Daze, also relaxing, nodded and squeezed Bassa’s arm before letting go and turning again to Anders.

“I’m ready to help. I should just need my datapad, sir, the relay data transfer will just need a few more minutes to complete, though.”

“Very good, See, I’ll debrief you in the meantime.” Anders said, with a scathing look in Bassa’s direction, arms folded disapprovingly. “This information is on a need to know basis so Lieutenant Lam, so perhaps you should be on your merry way. And I severely hope you don’t talk to your own commanding officer like you just talked to me.”

Bassa rolled her eyes and bared her pointed teeth.

“I’ll see you later, love,” Daze said, pulling her down for a quick kiss on the cheek.”

“You’d better,” replied Bassa, with a fond smile. With one last lingering touch to her girlfriend’s cheek, she made for the door.

“What info do you have on the target, sir?” said Daze behind her.

“Name is Erso, Jyn. Human, female, twenty two standard years old. Former member of Saw Gerrara’s Partisans. Last seen on the planet-”

Bassa didn’t hear the rest as the door slid shut behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 2: 3 Days BBY_ **

* * *

It was a muggy afternoon (as usual for the stupid moon) and Bassa leaned casually against a corridor wall, once again waiting.

The base moved around her with its typical fluidity, techs, pilots and the like going about their collective days. Most of them ignored her, which suited her just fine; she’d been nurturing a reputation of indifference for a while now, and most people on base had gotten the message. Others were simply frightened or put off by her massive montrals, sharply pointed teeth that humans in particular found uncomfortable and what remained of a jagged scar down the ride side of her face (she’d won a fight against a Trandosian bounty hunter, and had liked the aesthetic of it enough to only bacta it minimally), all of which didn’t lend to a particularly friendly or open demeanour.

In fact, only Cassian Andor of all people had met her eye all afternoon. He’d stopped and opened his mouth as if to speak to her, before apparently reconsidering, and walking off again, trailed by a couple of grim looking rebels holding blasters.

Bassa had glowered after him, her interest piqued but not enough to follow up; after all, she had made her dislike for Andor known to his face and many others faces. She’d gone off at Anders about it only a few days prior.

It wasn’t the fact that Cassian was a Fulcrum agent that annoyed her (after all, it was Kallus, another Fulcrum, that had gotten her and Daze off Oteport) but rather the way he went about it. She’d heard stories of his ruthless efficiency- executing witnesses, backstabbing information sources and generally doing anything in his power to maintain a cover or save his own skin.

Bassa had been in mercenary circles for a long time, and had seen far worse people do both less and more, but all of that had been for credits or glory or even sheer fear. But for Andor, it was something different; there was a low-burning fire in him that she didn’t understand. He believed in a free galaxy at any and all cost, but for Bassa it was hard to believe that he, being _one person_ out of billions, could make any difference at all.

_“General Syndulla to the briefing room. General Syndulla to the briefing room.”_

Bassa had begun examining her blaster out of boredom and to avoid thinking about Cassian Andor any more than she needed, when the doors to the main conference room ahead slid open and people began spilling out.

She watched Generals, officers and group of grave looking Senators in flowing robes go by before spotting Daze and Anders, hurrying in her direction. She strapped her weapon to her thigh holster and straightened, pushing off the wall.

Daze had started wearing her hair in a new style since they’d arrived on Yavin- a repurposed barber droid had taken to giving out haircuts when it wasn’t assisting in the infirmary, and Daze had gone for a much shorter cut, just above shoulders with a thick fringe spilling onto her forehead. She’d seen the style in a high fashion holo-mag from Coruscant, and had wanted to try it out.

Hair was a complete mystery to Bassa (having none of her own) but she was savvy enough in both general human appearances and specifically her girlfriend’s appearance to know that it suited her very well. Daze’s hair bounced up and down as she walked towards her taking short, angry strides that immediately told Bassa she was tense annoyed.

“-you see the council made the wrong decision, Anders? Senator Mothma knows it,” Daze was saying as she came into earshot. “Why didn’t they listen to Jyn?”

The frustration only became more apparent as Daze drew closer, the tenseness of Anders strut also telling Bassa that the ‘Important Meeting’ they’d been called to, whatever it had been about, had not gone well.

“Erso certainly made a compelling argument,” said Anders, “But it’s not as simple as just sending an incursion team to Scarif. What we all need to keep in mind is that the Alliance is at a crucial tipping point, and any action we take now could have wide ranging consequences.”

“But why is dissolving the Alliance even an option?”

Bassa perked up at that, a shot of disbelief going through her system.

“ _Moons_ ,” cried Daze, as the two stopped a few feet from Bassa, “After all the work we’ve been doing, all the lives we’ve been trying to save, they’re just gonna give it all up? Senator Jebel is just a _nerf-herding cowa_ -”

“Lieutenant See, _please_ refain from insulting council members, no matter how true it may be,” interjected Anders, running a stressed hand through his hair.

Bassa snorted. “You know, if you wanted to find out that all politicians are spineless, I could have saved you both a couple hours.”

Daze shot her a withering look. “Bass, this is really serious.”

“I heard. The Alliance might be dissolving. And something about a rumour of a weapon capable of destroying planets? The Empire can’t be kriffing serious with that.”

“It’s not a rumour, it’s true. Stop joking around, people are going to _die_!” cried Daze, taking Bassa aback.

“Alright, I’m not getting in between another lover’s quarrel with you two,” interrupted Anders, holding out his hands. “I’m heading back to Info-Tech to contact Traynor and brief the team. Daze, take some time to let Bassa know what’s going on. I’ll see you back there, but only after you’ve cooled down a bit.”

Daze stared, then nodded. “Sorry sir. Uh, yes.”

Anders sighed, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hang in there, See. However this situation ends, whether we’re scrambling to find some design flaw in a planet killing weapon or just having to fight to keep the Alliance from falling apart, I’m going to need you to stay strong. You and the rest of the team are smart and capable, and I know we’re all up to the task of taking on the Empire.”

Bassa felt heat rising in her stomach- there it was again, that stupid belief that one person could and had to risk everything for the so-called ‘greater cause’. She wanted to spit _‘Don’t put the whole galaxy on her shoulders, that’s not fair, don’t you know she’s already been through enough?’_ at Anders, but looking at Daze’s face made her stop. It was shining with pride, and hope, as she nodded understanding.

Anders offered one last smile, a curt nod to Bassa, and then he was gone up the hallway.

“What in _horn’s_ name is going on, Daze?” asked Bassa, rounding on her girlfriend, thoroughly irritated. “What happened in there?”

“We got confirmation of Fulcrum’s intel- the Empire has a planet killer, and it’s ready to use,” Daze said, distressed. “It’s all so clear now- all the strange stories over the years, Geonosis, the kyber on Jedha, even those mineral shipments from Oteport that kept disappearing. I had a feeling for ages that they were going to something for the Empire, but I could never track it down.”

Daze fidgeted in place, glancing around, before stepping closer.

“The meeting was a briefing on the situation- Jyn Erso, you know the woman Anders and I tracked to that Imperial labour camp?- she and Andor got the intel they needed from Saw Gerrerra on Jedha, and made it to Edo in search of her father.”

“Edo- that’s where that fighter squadron was deployed yesterday, right?” Bassa had a feeling she knew where this story was going.

Vaguely, she registered that the crowd had cleared out, and she and Daze where almost the only people still lingering around.

“Yes. Galen Erso was killed in the bombing run, but the rest made it out. Jyn and a defected Imperial pilot gave a lot of the briefing, and here’s the thing, Bass- they say the weapon isn’t indestructible. Erso’s Papa put a design flaw in the thing, and they’re saying that if we can get our hands on the plans, we can use it. We could destroy it before it ever got a chance to destroy the galaxy!”

Bassa could only stare into her girlfriends eyes again, blazing with hope and determination that felt like blaster shots to the stomach.

“But?” she said.

“ _But_ ,” Daze answered, “But the council didn’t agree to it. The plans are on an Imperial facility on Scarif and they’ve decided that’s too much of a risk. Then Senator Jebel just started making all these stupid claims, that the Alliance was finished because nothing could stand against the weapon. It was like they’d heard nothing that Erso said! They voted not to go and even talked about ending the Alliance all together, like there was no other option!”

Daze groaned, and could do nothing but sigh in response.

“You know,” Bassa said softly, cautiously, pulling Daze in closer to the stone wall. “I’ve been meaning to say- well, it just sounds like things are starting to ramp up around here. Galactic civil war could break out any day now, and we didn’t really sign up for that, did we? Maybe you can see that the council has a point, and this fight it too big for the Alliance to take.”

“But that’s the thing, it wasn’t the whole council! Senator Mothma and Organa seemed resistance, and you know some of the other high ranks won’t stand for it either. Syndulla and Zeb will probably be first in line.”

Bassa swallowed. “Well maybe... Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if the Alliance dissolved? I mean, look at this place, some tiny moon in the middle of nowhere. What good is anyone here, really against the entire Empire?”

“That’s kriffing _ridiculous_ ,” Daze shot back. “The weapon destroyed Jedha city, Bass. It’s population was in the thousands, and the Empire is already covering it up as a mining accident. If we don’t try, then they’ll just keep getting away with it.”

The sinking feeling returned to Bassa’s stomach. The fact that Daze was so invested in something that was either about to crumble under its own weight, or rise into a conflict spanning the galaxy had her worried. Worse, Bassa wasn’t sure which of those outcomes to fear more.

“Yeah...Who knows,” said Bassa, for some reason thinking back to Cassian Andor and his entourage, some of which she’d vaguely recognised from her unit.

They certainly hadn’t looked like they were giving up. In fact, now that she thought about it, they had looked ready to go to war, in dark combat uniforms and with blasters and extra ammo strapped to their bodies.

“Maybe this won’t be the end,” she pondered. “Maybe someone will say ‘screw the council’ and take matters into their own hands. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter 3: 2 Days BBY_ **

* * *

News of the Battle of Scarif kept trickling in like water off the trees after a Yavinian rainstorm.

The first ships to return to Base One were in the process of being repaired in the hangers, while others still had been forced to stop along the way due to structural damage or faulty hyper drives, and even more still hadn’t escaped from the Empire at all.

Almost all of Blue squadron had been decimated, seventy percent of the beach landing team hadn’t made it to an evac ship in time, and, of course, the entirety of Rogue One had been classed as KIA.

_Rogue One,_ Bassa thought, solemnly.

People had been saying the words in mournful whispers, prayers and shouts everywhere around the base since the story had spread- they were heroes and martyrs, a merry band of rogues that had defied the Councils orders to infiltrate Scarif, and inspired a fleet to follow them.

Already they were being deified, the mythic tale of bravery and sacrifice of a single ship of rebels, Jyn Erso at the helm.

She hadn’t liked Cassian Andor, and would never pretend otherwise, but something inside her did twinge at his loss. As callous and driven as he had been, he was also a good soldier for the Alliance, a good spy that had been sent a lot of intel Info-Tech’s way and it seemed, from the way some people now whispered about him, a vector of hope and respect to those who knew him.

Above all, Bassa still couldn’t quite believe that they’d succeeded against the Empire, much less in a full scale land and space battle. Yavin and the Alliance had always seemed so ragtag, a stitched together collection of technologies and species and cultures all sweating together in the forest heat, scared to do anything more than small scale revolts and subterfuge. They were organised, yes, but it had and maybe would always pale in comparison to the wealth and might of the Imperial fleet.

But Scarif had proven something to both Bassa and the Empire- that maybe it could be enough, that maybe with people like Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor leading the charge and a fleet willing to fight following, maybe they could one day take down the Empire.

At least, that’s what Bassa would be thinking if it weren’t for the Death Star.

The picture was as clear as day, a hologram bigger than her body projected in the middle of the Info-tech room, all of the occupants standing and staring in awe and terror at it. It could be mistaken for a small moon at a distance, silver and round, with a gaping eye of a dish staring planet-ward.

“Play the footage again,” said Anders grimly, arms folded and tense, and Trinitee pushed at her datapad. The playback was silent but telling- the footage zoomed out as the dots of X-Wings and bombers whipped by in the foreground. Seemingly out of nowhere, three points of laser-like green energy converged at the tip of the dish, concentrating and firing down onto Scarif.

It was _awful_ , Bassa thought, shuddering as she thought of all the people who had been disintegrated in the blast, their atoms being thrown with such force that it reached like a grasping hand into the atmosphere. An Imperial base of soldiers and the entire ground incursion team, gone in one massive energy blast like it was nothing.

The footage ended abruptly with the familiar hues of hyperspace, as the ship it had been filmed from had jumped. In a blink, the display returned to the closer scans of the weapon as whole.

“Kriffing hell,” said Anders softly. He walked to his desk and sat down with all the heaviness of a full set of Beskar armour upon him, rubbing fretfully at his temple.

“How are we supposed to stop that,” Wester whispered hollowly, his hands fretfully tangled through his curly hair as he sat slumped in his chair. “The scale, the power, the hyperspace capabilities!”

“Would you like to hear the odds, Lieutenant Wester?” said C3-AKR, morbidly cheerful, “With even this basic visual data I can already tell you that they are extremely low, and you will not like them.”

Wester moaned, burying his face fully in his hands.

Bassa turned to Daze, standing beside her, their hands intertwined in a tight grip. She hadn’t said a word for over twenty minutes, just stared slack-jawed at the hologram.

_It’s time,_ Bassa reasoned with herself. She’d been putting it off for weeks now, months if she was honest- it was time they got out of here, left the Rebellion like they should have from the start. It was getting too dangerous for them to stay.

“Daze,” said Bassa, lowly, “Love, listen. You’re not going to like this but I think we really need to consider-“

“I told you my home planet has seven moons, didn’t I?” said Daze, eyes still transfixed and reflecting the blue of the holo.

Bassa frowned. “I vaguely remember that, yeah. It’s called Lunis, right?”

“Yeah, Lunis,” replied Daze. She swallowed as she glanced at Bassa nervously. “Just another regular old mid-rim farming planet, but the moons were always the defining feature.”

Daze stepped forward, her fingers slipping from Bassa’s hand as she reached up to touch the hologram, gently rotating it on its axis until the eye of the dish was looking directly at her.

“The early Lunis settlers were pretty cut off from the galaxy because of how far they were from the more popular hyperspace lanes, but they stayed because of the richness of the soil. There wasn’t really much else to do there besides farm and look up, so a lot of stories cropped up over the years about the moons.”

“You see that stuff everywhere, if you look hard enough,” chipped in Trinitee, and Bassa was a little startled to see she’d started listening in. “Stories about planets and constellations and local caves that people are drawn to, it’s the basis of a lot of cultures.”

“Exactly, so like I said, Lunis isn’t exactly unique,” said Daze, a little louder. “The moons have seasons and horoscopes and famous starship pilots associated with them, not that _I_ ever believed that moon that was most full the day I was born would shape my personality, but I digress.”

“What’s your point here, Daze?” Bassa said, trying to keep the annoyance she felt out of her voice, crossing her arms. Sometimes, Daze just liked to talk, and while she was extremely intelligent and passionate with her words, that sometimes translated into endless, off-topic rambling.

“I’m getting there, alright? The moon story that scared me most when I was a kid was always the one about the eighth moon that was actually an evil god, and one day it would enter our system and destroy Lunas with a single fiery breath. They called it the _Moonfall,_ and I used to have nightmares about it.”

A shiver ran down Bassa’s spine as the room fell deathly silent. Daze stepped back, the holo of the Death Star looming over menacingly.

“This is it. It’s here for us, and it’ll destroy everything in its path,” she whispered. She turned to Bassa. _“Unless we can stop it first.”_

Bassa was speechless. She’d never seen such terrifying resolution in her girlfriend’s eyes

“Interestingly, most planets and cultures have doomsday myths associated with them,” piped in C3, breaking the tension almost comically. “It seems like a sentient habit to hypothesise one’s own destruction. I have several such stories in my database if anyone would like to hear some more.”

Wester blanched. “Oh, shut it, droid!”

“Not now, C,” said Anders, pushing off from his chair and walking back to the middle of the room.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to take a few minutes to regroup and then it’s right back to work. Our orders are as follows- as of now, we’re on standby until Senator Organa delivers the plans to this…” He gestured uselessly at the holo behind him. “...thing. Senator Mothma wants them analysed as quickly as possible so the Generals can come up with a strategy for destroying it.”

“How far away are the plans?” asked Trinitee.

“Hours at most, from the last estimate. Princess Leia of Alderaan is the courier, and she’s been given a vital mission in the Outer Rim to complete as well. Her ship will return when it is complete.”

“Why didn’t they return right away? What’s so important in the Outer Rim that’s worth a delay in analysing the plans?” asked Daze, frowning.

“I wasn’t told the details,” replied Anders, “Senator Mothma mentioned something about a powerful ally that could be key to our cause, and I trust her judgment.”

“If this ally is so important, why weren’t they brought in before now?” said Bassa, pointedly.

“I don’t kn-” The communicator on Anders belt beeped, and he immediately grabbed for it, holding the disk up. A small hologram of an Alliance comm worker popped up. “Do we have an ETA on the Tantive IV yet, Kamp?”

“Negative, Anders. Just bad news, I’m afraid,” the little figure replied, adjusting her headphones. “We just received a transmission that they’ve had to make an emergency drop out of hyperspace further from Tatooine than expected. Their fuel supply is low, but Captain Antilles is hopeful they can reach the planet before it runs out, although he’s unsure if they can do so before the Empire can track the ship’s hyperspace trajectory from Scarif.”

“For all of our sake’s, we’d better hope they do. Keep me posted, Kamp,” said Anders, clicking the communicator off. He turned to face the room at large.

“What do we do?” said Trinitee, uncertainly.

“Nothing. Our orders are unchanged,” responded Anders, his back straight and shoulders square. “Stay close to Info-Tech and keep your comms on you at all times. I’m going to send an update to Troyer.”

He turned to his desk, before reconsidering, posture softening slightly. “There are difficult times ahead of all of us. But if Rogue One proved anything, it’s that it we’re brave enough, we can win against the Empire. Let’s finish what they started, people.”

Anders nodded curtly, satisfied, before walking away.

“Nice speech,” Bassa said sarcastically under her breath, and Daze huffed in amusement.

The group seemed to dissipate, Daze slumping over to her desk and Bassa following to lean in her spot again.

She immediately watched as Trinitee turned to Wester to ask, “Are you ok? You look pale.”

“Yeah,” the young man replied, eyes blank and not staring even remotely in the Twi’lek’s direction. “I just need some air. Uh- bye Trin.”

Wester was out the door in the blink of an eye. Bassa had seen frightened womp rat move slower.

A lot had happened over the past few hours, it was almost impossible to process. It seemed like only an hour ago that the fleet had left hurriedly for Scarif, and now a space station that looked like a moon was set to terrorize the galaxy. Despite Anders assurances to the contrary, there was no guarantee the plans would arrive at all, especially with the Empire so close in pursuit. What could some princess do against Imperial interrogation if she were caught? Would she give up the plans, or worse, the location of Base One to the Empire?

Bassa found herself anxiously running her hand across the scarred section of her lekku again. It was a bad habit.

“Why do I have a bad kriffing feeling about this whole thing?” she moaned.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the only one, my love,” added Daze.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 4: 4 Hours BBY** _

* * *

The call came in out of nowhere- one minute, Yavin IV had been bathed in a mournful and anxious mood after news broke that the crew of the Tantive IV had been killed in an Imperial ambush, and in the next it was a high energy flurry of panic and movement. Miraculously, Princess Leia had escaped capture still in possession of the plans, but was en route to base in a freighter that was most definitely being tracked.

In other words, the Death Star was on its way.

It seemed as though there was no time for anyone to breathe, much less think, and before Bassa knew it, the Generals and Council had approved the ships arrival and simultaneously ordered an evacuation of Base One.

It had begun only an hour ago- the temple was in the process of being stripped, computers dismantled or destroyed to erase the Alliance’s footprints in case of capture, while frantic footsteps echoed through the old stone hallways as members of all species hurried on their way. Fear hung in the air like a bad smell, the shadow of the Empire looming over them all.

Bassa had only just slipped away from loading medical equipment from the infirmary into cargo containers and had about fifteen minutes before she had to report to some General for a briefing on ground incursion with the members of her team who hadn’t died on Scarif.

Or at least, that was what she was supposed to. In reality, Bassa had already cleared out her quarters and had everything important stowed in a backpack, and was making a beeline straight to Info-Tech.

Straight to Daze.

(Daze, sweet Daze, with her loving brown eyes, who’d been through hell that manifested in the scars on her skin long before Bassa had even met her but had still come out the other end so kind hearted and determined to help others. Daze, who Bassa would both kill and die for, who she loved more than anything else in the galaxy, and who Bassa had to get off Yavin before it was too late.)

Bassa paused on her way through the temple only to help a panicking technician reload her overturned hover-cart, but otherwise made it to the Info-Tech room in record time.

Like the rest of the base, the room had been gutted, exposed wires and shipping crates littering the ground and remaining desks. Trinitee looked up from where she was throwing what looked like a stack of delicate hard drives into a crate, her blue lekku swinging wildly.

“Daze isn’t here, she’s in the War Room with Anders,” said Trinitee, her hands shaking and sweat beading on her brow. Tear marks tracked her face.

“Why the _kriff_ is she there?” yelled Bassa, taking a menacing step towards her.

Trin flinched, and Bassa felt a twinge of guilt, but didn’t back down.

“She volunteered to help Anders and C3 analyse the plans when they arrive while I pack up.”

“Oh, of _course_ she did,” snarled Bassa. _Stupid_ Daze, too helpful and eager for her own good, and the thought that she would die for it terrified Bassa to the core.

She stomped over to Daze’s desk. The chair was gone and the holographic screen displayed a simple blue bar reaching across it with the words _‘Data 87% deleted’_ upon it.

She took a sweeping look of the desk- several more missing or knocked over, and she zeroed in on the bobble head tooka and tucked it in one of her pockets before running back out the door without another word to Trinitee.

The closer Bassa got to the War Room, the more crowded the corridors seemed to get. Everyone from radar techs to pilots to officers dashed in and out from every direction, droids and astromechs alike beeping and booping among the din. It was chaos.

No one took any notice when she hurried through the War Room door. It was largely still intact, the green navigational screens up and running and an important looking group of officers and holograms gathered around the central circular console, deep in grave discussion.

Bassa ignored it all, and headed to the bank of computers on the right of the room, scanning the line of heads. A small group huddling around a console caught her eye, the familiar glint of C3’s silver chrome shining among them.

“Look at these specs, this thing even bigger than the holos made out!” someone in the group, a technician she didn’t recognise, said in a low tense whisper.

“What was it the recording said again?”

“According to Erso, if the reactor takes a hit, the entire system blows.”

“Did we ever _really_ get confirmation that that was true, though?”

“Quit the chatter,” commanded Anders. “We have no time for speculation, so everyone get back to your stations.”

“Daze. Daze!” cried Bassa.

Daze, sitting in the console’s chair, swung to look at Bassa. Her hair had been pulled back into a bun, but that was the only put-together aspect of her appearance- the darkness of the war room accentuated the dark circles under her eyes and deep lines of concern etched in her face. Like Trinitee, she also looked like she’d been crying.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be meeting with General Dodonna?” Daze said. Anders, C3 and the rest also turned in Bassa’s direction.

“Can we talk? I need to tell you something.”

Her girlfriend stared, and then nodded. “I’ll be right back, guys.”

She stood, grabbing Bassa’s hand and pulling away to the other side of the room.

Anders shot them a suspicious look, but said nothing.

“This is going to have to be quick, I’m busy,” said Daze, oddly curt.

“Ok, _ok_ ,” Bassa huffed, hurriedly collecting herself. “This has gone on long enough and I’ve been putting off telling you for weeks but- Daze, as soon as you can get away, you need to meet me at the hanger. We’re leaving on the next evacuation ship.”

Daze simply stared, pursing her lips, for what felt like an age. If Bassa didn’t know any better, she would say her girlfriend was angry.

“No,” said Daze.

_“No?!?”_

“There’s no kriffing way I’m leaving, Bass.”

Bassa took a deep breath, trying not to let frustration overwhelm her. She pulled Daze in closer, gripping onto her humans arm as if the pressure alone would make her stupid, stubborn girlfriend see reason.

“ _Yes you are_ , Daze, leaving is the kriffing _point_ of an evacuation. I’ve already cleared our quarters, so finish up and _let’s go_.”

“No, I’m not doing that. Anders is already down a man after Wester left.”

It hadn’t really surprised Bassa to learn that Wester had left earlier that morning. With nothing but hurriedly ransacked quarters and a holo-message explaining that he regretted ever joining the Alliance and a plea for the rest of the team to save themselves in his wake, he was gone.

“Wester may have been spineless, but he did have a point, you know.”

“ _Ugh_ , you thick headed Togrutan!” cried Daze in frustration. “You don’t understand what’s going on here-”

“Oh, I understand _perfectly fine_ ,” hissed Bassa, fed up. “I thought for a second there that Rogue One proved something, that maybe this whole thing could actually work. But all they really did was die for _nothing_.”

“Bassa, that’s not true, you can’t believe that! Princess Leia just arrived with the Death Star plans. There’s encryption levels on them that I can help crack, if you just give me-”

“If the Princess is here then the Empire isn’t going to be close behind. I don’t care what they-” Bassa gestured to Anders and his group, “-do with the time they have left. _We_ are not dying on this rock today, I am getting you out of here whether you like it or not.”

She started pulling Daze in the direction of the door, internally hating the force and spectacle of the whole ordeal. But Daze could hate her all she wanted, safe and alive far way from Alliances and Yavin IV and the Death Star.

“No. No!” Daze cried, digging in her heels. Bassa had almost forgotten there were other people in the room as the distant murmurs fell silent and she felt several eyes upon them. “Bassa wait, listen, please- _Emperor Palpatine dissolved the Senate_!”

That gave Bassa pause. She frowned. “That’s not impossible. That’s _stupid_ , he wouldn’t do that.”

“He did. The last pretences of democracy in the galaxy are gone, don’t you see what this means?” pleaded Daze

“That’s...” began Bassa, thrown off her balance, but she quickly realigned. “So we head to the Outer Rim, as far from the centre as we can. Find a small planet where we can be safe and hunker down for as long as we can.”

“We tried that already on Oteport, remember? You said the Empire wouldn’t bother with a small mining planet, but you were wrong and they did. It’ll happen again and again, wherever we try to go, they won’t be far behind.”

There was a buzzing in Bassa’s montrals, a pressure building up behind her temples. “You _can’t_ know that for sure.”

“I do, I do know, Bass. Because...” Daze took a deep, shuddering breath. “Alderaan is gone. The Death Star- the Empire, _destroyed_ it.”

The words took a second to process, and then Bassa felt the ground give way beneath her, as though she were on a ship and the anti-grav had been forced off.

She dropped Daze’s arm and stood back, swallowing around a massive lump in her throat. “Wha-what? No, Alderaan is a protected core world, they wouldn’t-they can’t have. That’s not- how is that-?”

“The Princess saw it. One blast and it was dust, and two billion people are dead, Bass, two- _kriffing_ -billion of them, in _seconds_.”

There were tears in Daze’s eyes, and stiffness to her jaw that Bassa had rarely seen. She was seething, furious, and exhausted all at the same time andBassa could only feel lost for words.

“No. No, they can’t have done that,” reasoned Bassa, “The Senate wouldn’t- _oh no_!”

Numbly, Bassa came to the sudden and horrible realisation of just how _kriffed_ the galaxy truly was.

_Yes_ , the Empire _could_ destroy and entire planet and culture in heartbeat. They could and would do it hundreds of times if the Emperor deemed it necessary. They were the _Empire_ , a force like a fist who wielded power through fear, intimidation and pain. They saw genocide as statistics, arrested and disappeared any dissent, blockaded and starved entire planets into submission.

“They have to be stopped,” demanded Daze, her back straight and head locked, looking up at Bassa. “That _thing_ has to be stopped, or any planet could be next- Shilia, Lothal, anywhere. It could truly be the Moonfall for Lunis. You have to understand, Bass, _you can’t keep me safe_. No one and nowhere is going to be safe anymore. Not the Outer Rim, maybe not even Coruscant if the Emperor happens to feel like destroying it. If it’s not taken care of today, this Rebellion might never get another chance at it. The _galaxy_ might not get another chance.”

Bassa could only gape, really. She was a fool- Bassa Lam, who for years had blissfully ignored it the galaxy at large while totalitarianism had grown like cancer behind her back.

The Empire’s tendrils had been stretching out and poisoning everything, and all the while she’d drunk Rylothian wine, fucked her way across systems and taken every selfish opportunity for distraction she could. In a galaxy where she’d never met Daze, Bassa was sure she’d still be in that apathetic position, but as it stood, she had no choice but to violently and suddenly _care_ about it all.

_“You have to let me help,”_ insisted Daze. She took a step forward, taking Bassa by the shoulders and mirroring the position they’d been in only minutes prior. “I helped get important info to the rebellion before , and I helped Kallus and Zeb on Oteport and I helped find Jyn Erso. I can help analyse the plans and maybe help with the operation itself. _Please, love_.”

“But this isn’t on you,” Bassa said weakly, already knowing she was grasping at straws. “I know you want to help, but the weight of the galaxy isn’t just on your shoulders, please understand that, love,”

“No, it’s up to _all of us_!” Daze snapped back, the words reverberating around the room. “We have a plan, all of us. As soon as the encryption’s cracked we’ll know the exact location of the exhaust port. Anders and the Generals reckon that some kind of coordinated attack by fighters and a bombing run on the station will be our best bet. The squadrons are being summoned for a debriefing as we speak, and everyone who’s volunteering to stay behind knows the risk they’re taking.”

A tear dripped from her eye, landing on her vest.

“We all still have _hope_ , Bassa,” begged Daze, “like Erso said, we’re built on it. I’m not leaving my _friends_ while there’s something I can still do to help. I’m sorry, but _I can’t leave with you_.”

Finally, Bassa truly understood. She felt an odd and relieving sense of release as she realised her mind had made itself up.

Daze’s gaze fell in unison with her arms. “But if _you_ \- I mean,” she whispered sadly, “If you still want to leave, you can, I won’t stop you. That wouldn’t be fair. You never really wanted to be here, I know that you only really stayed for me. Just send me a transmission every once in a while, I guess.”

Bassa barked out a laugh. As a response, she closed the gap between them, gently cupping her hands around Daze’s face and pulling her stupid, wonderful girlfriend in for a kiss. Daze was shocked, but quickly melted into the familiar motion, and when they broke apart Bassa kept their foreheads close.

“I won’t leave,” breathed Bassa, “I won’t leave _you_. Not just because there’s nowhere else to go, but because you’re right. It’s the right thing to do. I’m sorry it took so long for me to understand.”

Daze’s eyes fluttered open, and they were filled with so much _relief_ and _love_ that the Death Star could have arrived in that very second and Bassa would die blissful and happy.

They broke apart and Daze pulled a holo-comunicator from her pocket, pressing it into Bassa’s hands. “Take this. I took it from Westor’s desk just in case.”

“He won’t need it anyway,” Bassa huffed, trying to inject a bit of humour in her voice.

“I’m going back to work. Stay in contact,” said Daze.

“I will.”

They stood, neither moving, staring at each other for a few seconds more.

“I’m proud of you, Dazey,” said Bassa, softly. “I’ll see you when this is all over, ok? Go save us all.”

Daze gave a taut grin, before turning away, her scent washing over Bassa one last time.

Bassa would be late to meet with her team and General Dodonna, but with everything as hectic as it was, something told her no one would truly mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Chapter 5: The Battle of Yavin_ **

* * *

**_“The Death Star will be in range in seven minutes.”_ **

Bassa Lam was going to die.

The world was a haze of numb disbelief and sheer, painful reality, as this thought sunk in. Her mercenary work had put her in life-or-death situations before, but it had never been this final, or impersonal before. The proud Togrutan in her would rather go out in a bloody hand to hand battle than the cold, sudden nothingness ahead of her.

The idea of fighting off a ground incursion had been scrapped as soon as the long range scanners detected the battle station powering up its energy source, and so Bassa had decided to head to the hangar and pitch in with what was left of the evacuation.

Although the occasional person still dashed about in panic, there was mostly a morbid stillness and acceptance hanging in the air around her as she slumped against the hull of a ship.

Said ship had only just landed, having been recalled to Base due to the dogfight ensuing above. The faces of its occupants, the hope draining from their faces as they realised escape had been stolen from them, would stick with Bassa for however long she had left.

They, and several other helpers, now sat on the ground in the middle of the hanger, silent and listening keenly for the next ominous announcement over the microphone. An occasional sob rang out, as people found they had nothing else to do but sling their arms around each other and blindly hope for a miracle.

Bassa felt lost and confused. She had hated this feeling, ever since she was a child and had first realised her father only cared for her as far as he could control her. Her fingers drifted across her lekku scars, a permanent reminder that although she had dropped her father’s surname in favour of her mother’s, his dark influence would always be with her.

But now, her death being counted down every minute by a robotic male voice, it felt like she was a small child again, powerless to the situation surrounding her, trying not to cry because that was a _weakness_.

Bassa wiped at her eyes, and looked around the room for distraction. A young human woman with brown hair sat, curled in a ball and rocking back and forth against a crate, a Mirialan woman gently patting her hair and trying in vain to provide comfort.

 _They’re both young to die,_ Bassa thought, pityingly.

In a moment, something bold and determined occurred to Bassa- she wasn’t a little girl with no control anymore, now she was grown up and had a _choice_. If was going to _die_ , but there was no way in kriffing hell that her last thoughts would be of her asshole father or lonely childhood or even pitying strangers.

She pushed off the wall and set off at a jog, simultaneously pulling the holo-communicator from her belt and punching in the number.

“Hi,” she said, as Daze’s face appeared before her.

No, if Bassa Lam was going to die, she would spend her last moments with the woman she loved.

 _“Hey,”_ replied Daze, softly. _“There’s still a couple X-Wings trying to make the run, but it’s not looking good. We’re down to minutes, and everyone here knows it.”_

“Should I ask about the odds? Please don’t give me a C3 answer if I do, that droid is _horrible_ ,” said Bassa.

Daze looked away, blinking as her eyes began pooling with moisture.

“Alright, shut up, don’t answer that. Are you still in the war room? Stay there, I’m coming to you.”

Bassa was now at a light run, the small hologram bouncing about as she tried to keep it steady in front of her.

 _“Why?”_ asked Daze. _“There’s no time left to get out even if we could take off, I doubt we could even make it back to the hanger before the blast hits.”_

“I know. I know, darling. That’s not why I’m coming. I- we’re gonna die.”

The statement hung in the air, seemingly punctuated by the announcement that **_“The Death Star will be in range in five minutes.”_**

_“Yeah. Yeah we’re gonna die. And I led you here. I led you here and then didn’t let you leave when you wanted to. You’re gonna die because of me.”_

“Don’t even _kriffing_ start with that,” Bassa shot back, an undertone of tenderness to her words. “You didn’t lead me, I came with you very willingly. I was at your side from Glyddia to Oteport to here, and, _horns_ , if by any chance we survive, I’ll follow you wherever we go next.”

“It’s a very slim chance there, love.”

“I don’t care, Dazey, because I love you, ok? You are the best thing that’s happened to me in this whole _kriffing_ galaxy. Moons, if I hadn’t fallen for you, I would still be that cold, empty bitch you first met in that smugglers hideout all those years ago. Or already dead, probably, on some meaningless job for some greedy crime lord. If the choice is between that and dying surrounded by good people trying to make a difference in this galaxy? Well, can safely say I’m glad I ended up here.”

_“You’re still dead either way.”_

“Yeah. But this way I get to choose to die looking into the eyes of the woman I love more than anything.”

 _“You’re so dramatic.”_ Daze released a soft huff of air and closing her eyes and running her fingers through the tufts of her fringe. “ _I love you too. I love you so much, I wish we had more time.”_

“I know,” Bassa said, huffing as she paused in a doorway. “I’m coming for you. Wait for me, I’m coming. I’ll see you soon.”

Daze nodded, the blue sheer picture showing gleaming tears running down her face, and Bassa smiled. She clicked the projector off, tucked it away and then ran for it. She ran as fast as she could, boots slapping hard against the stones underfoot, almost seeing the eye of the Death Star on her back and letting that fear propel her further.

She raced around a bend, mind solely on getting to the War Room before it was too late when- crash!- she barrelled straight into a pile of overturned storage crates, probably abandoned in a panic by someone on their way to an evac ship.

“Gah!” Bassa yelled, rolling into the fall with her right shoulder and tucking her montrals up as much as possible. She landed flat on her back with what felt like the lease dignity possible, one leg propped up by a smaller crate, her whole body jolted and aching from the fall and unexpected shock. _“Kriffing kriff!”_

A squeaking noise came from beside and, Bassa turned on the pivot of her back head tail to see the thing she would have least expected to in that moment.

There, tucked in among the crates beside her, was a small Togrutan boy, curled in a ball and crying. He was no more than ten years old from the development state of his montrals, which were little more than extended nubs, and he was staring back at her with impossibly wide eyes, looking about as shocked to see her on the floor as she was.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you have been on one of the first evacuation ships?” snapped Bassa, pulling herself into a sitting position.

The boy recoiled in fear and started crying.

“Wait, _kriff_ , I mean- no, sorry. It’s- it’s alright.” Bassa could only cring at her words. It was far from alright- they would be disintegrated at any moment.

On cue, the words **_“The Death Star will be in range in three minutes,”_** echoed through the stone hall.

She looked intently at the boy, as he anxiously clutched at his tiny lek.

_What was a child still doing on base?_

“Hey, it’s ok, kid. Talk to me,” Bassa said, in as reassuring. “Why hadn’t you been evacuated?”

“I was on a ship,” he blubbered, wiping at his nose, “but I snuck off to look for my dad. He said he’d find me after it was all over, but he had to help out with the ships first. But I had his hydro-spanner and he always needs it and I didn’t want to leave him alone in the first place anyway. And now I can’t find him, and I’m _scared_.”

With that, he wound his arms around legs and began sobbing quietly into his knees.

Bassa was lost. All she could do was, contemplating where to go from this point. The kid was alone, scared and about to die, and all he had was a woman who happened to have crashed clumsily to the ground right in front of him.

She’d never been good with children, opting to avoid them completely, or in the case of the young girl who’d lived next door to them on Oteport, just let Daze deal with it.

That thought gave Bassa an idea. She pulled the holo-communicator from her belt once again and flicked it on.

 _“Are you nearly here? You must be nearly here,”_ Daze said, fretfully. Trinitee was now sitting beside her, her blue head leaning on Daze’s shoulder.

“I- no. I’m sorry, I ran into something on the way and I need your help.” She turned to lens of the projector on the young boy, who gave her a curious look over his small arms.

“He’s lost his dad and I don’t know what to do. Dazey, what do I do? I don’t think I should leave him. Do I try to carry him?”

Daze gaped, the shock evident in her expression. She blinked several times, and then closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were etched with sorrow.

 _“No,”_ she said, heartbroken. _“No, stay there with him, Bass. There’s no time for any of that.”_

“But I promised to come to you,” Bassa argued, but already the drive to get to Daze she’d felt only a minute prior seemed like a distant memory.

_“That doesn’t matter. Just stay on the line and comfort the child as best you can. He needs you more than I do.”_

Future bruises made themselves known as Bassa nodded and got to her kees, scooting over so she could sit next to the boy and put an awkward arm around him.

“I’m here, kid. I’m gonna stay with you if that’s ok.”

“Yeah,” the boy replied, lifting his head slightly to look at her. “That’s ok.”

He looked at the hologram of Daze and Trin as well.

“Hi,” the little boy said shyly.

 _“Hello. It’s very nice to meet you,”_ said Trinitee softly.

_“Please look after Bassa for me, she’s very important to me,” asked Daze._

“Ok,” said the kid. He leaned into Bassa’s side completely, clinging to the fabric of her sweater.

**_“The Death Star will be in range in one minute.”_ **

“I love you. I love you _so much_ ,” Bassa choked out.

 _“I love you too,”_ replied Daze. She clutched tighter to Trinitee.

Bassa brought the communicator as close to her face as she physically could, drinking in Daze’s image- round face, thick fring, and her her brown eyes, all diluted by the blue sheen of the holo. Bassa could only try to imagine the soft, sweet touch of her lips, the texture and smell of her hair after a shower, the beautiful face she made when she orgasmed and everything else that made up the woman she loved most in the entire galaxy.

They were going to die. And although it had definitely crossed her mind in the last few hours that she should have just dragged Daze onto a ship when they’d last been together in the War Room, now a wave of cool acceptance and even release washed over her.

“There’s so much we should have done together. Explore more of the galaxy, settle down on some quiet world somewhere. Gotten married, you know, just a nice little, normal life.”

 _“You really would have married me?”_ scoffed Daze in disbelief, sniffling. _“I thought you said you’d never make that mistake again.”_

“It wouldn’t have been a mistake with you,” Bassa said with a smile.

It felt as though Base One was taking a gigantic inhale of a breath around her. Here was a pause that drilled down to her very soul.

Bassa frowned.

“I told you I’ve been missing that Glyddian kebab place, didn’t I?”

 _“Yes, love,”_ replied Daze. _“You did.”_

**_“The Death Star is in range.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go, and I'll be posting StardustGirl's edit along with it. Eeeeeee I'm excited!


	7. Chapter 7

**_Epilogue: 5 Hours ABY (After the Battle of Yavin)_ **

* * *

The atmosphere on Base One had to be the strangest kind Bassa had ever experienced. The evacuation was almost complete, but it now had a far more relaxed and measured tone to it, instead of hurry and panic it was intermixed with the sounds of laughter and even the occasional burst of song. People of all species walked around the temple renewed vigour, a figurative spring in their steps- after all, one tends to celebrate after cheating certain death.

It wasn’t completely over, not by a long shot. The Empire was still on the horizon, an entire battalion of Star Destroyers prepping for hyperspace half a galaxy away, but they’d arrive to a Death Star debris field, fading hyperspace trails and an empty moon.

Against all odds, they’d done it. Some rookie pilot in Red Squadron had got lucky and hit the exhaust port dead on at the last second. The station had exploded so brightly it could be seen in the midday sky.

It had been a true miracle. Funny how simply being alive felt like that sometimes.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” asked Daze softly.

Now that there was breathing room and actual time for reflection, Bassa was beginning to realise that she would miss Yavin IV. Sure, it was small, and her sweat clung to the worst places on her body, but the jungle held a deep, thriving life that somewhat reminded her of Shilia, her home planet.

Even the temple held some fond warmth for her: without actively realising it, she’d memorised many of the ancient temples hallways, had picked a favourite Massanian wall mural (the one depicting ancient ships rising above the forest at the entrance to the mess hall) and, despite how much she loved to complain about some of them (Anders sprang to mind), the people that filled the temple weren’t too bad either.

“Just things,” Bassa replied, gently running her fingers across her girlfriend’s hair.

They sat- Bassa leaning against the stone and Daze curled up and dozing with her head in her lap- on a wide, mossy windowsill half way up the temple’s outer walls, gazing out across the landing platform and the green mass of jungle for what would be the last time. Twilight bathed the air, and it was almost time for them to leave.

“Good things?” questioned Daze.

Bassa laughed, short and delirium based, whatever shot of adrenaline she still had left spiking.

“All sorts of things! It’s just so much to process- one moment we’re gonna die, and the next- I still can’t believe _Han Solo_ of all people helped save us. From the stories I’ve heard, that scoundrel has never done an unselfish thing in his life,” she huffed.

Daze snorted. “Yeah.”

“It feels like a _cycles_ since the fighters left for Scarif, since Rogue One, you know? And we went from knowing next to nothing about the Death Star to destroying it in the space of days, and some unknown pilot comes out of nowhere to take the final shot. Now we’re all alive, when we should really be dead, and we have to go to some big kriffing _medal ceremony_ for some reason, and then all get on ships to leave this place. It’s all completely _insane_ , it feels like the plot of a holo-drama.”

“It certainly seems like that,” Daze said with a yawn. She fidgeted in Bassa’s arms, before sitting up, popping her back with a stretch and scooted closer so lean her head against Bassa’s shoulder. “Remember when we thought the Alliance was going to fall apart? And now its stronger than ever, and when we get to the ship we can get finally some proper sleep and off-time.”

“Oh, we _better_ ,” Bassa replied, pointedly.

Daze laughed. “I promise not to take on any extra diagnostic jobs for a month if you promise to stay in bunk with me for the next 48 hours at least.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They fell silent as a ship approached the landing platform, the sudden gust of wind causing them to cling tight to each other as the ships thrusters powered down. The pilot, a dark haired humanoid, saluted at them from the cockpit, and they waved back before it descended below their line of sight.

Absently, Bassa began toying with the akul tooth pendant she wore around her neck, thumbing over the familiar ridges and texture.

“Are you sure that Togrutan boy was ok?” asked Daze, and Bassa could feel the frown in her voice.

“For the third time, _yes_. He said the woman who took him was a friend of his father’s, and I made sure he was alright before I left. I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’ll find his Dad.”

“I still would have liked to check in on him. A name _really_ would be helpful for that, Bass,” Daze said, a little crossly.

Bassa could only shrug. Huddling against a wall with a terrified kid when you were about to die wasn’t exactly prime time for friendly introductions.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll run into him again sometime, and then I’ll show you that he’s alright.”

“This war isn’t any place for children.”

“Maybe not,” said Bassa. She glanced at Daze. It was truly a war now- both the Empire and the Alliance had taken giant steps against the other, and from some estimates she’d seen, this would be a galaxy cycle-spanning conflict.

A lot of things had changed in only the last day (the streaks of meteor debris raining across the evening sky were evidence enough of that) but for Bassa personally, the biggest difference was that she was now truly in the fight.

The Death Star’s destruction had filled her with more hope than she’d felt in her life. It was a big shiny sign that proved the Empire wasn’t infallible, and that anyone who truly tried to help could make a difference (although she was still loathe to admit that Cassian Andor had ever made any good points).

Bassa looked to Daze, her hair down and messy.

_Sweet_ Daze, who had thrown herself into Bassa’s arms as soon as she’d entered the war room in the wake of the Death Star’s destruction, crying and kissing in equal measure. _Smart, beautiful_ Daze, who Anders had promoted in the wake of Wester’s desertion, who’d seen the importance and meaning in rebellion that Bassa selfishly hadn’t. Daze See, the human woman that had Bassa Lam’s whole Togrutan heart.

“But there’s gotta be a place for love,” Bassa said, knowing that every sappy word would have made herself cringe five years ago, and not caring at all. “I love you. I meant every word I said during that countdown. I’ll follow you and this Rebellion as far as you’ll have me.”

Daze snorted. “So you didn’t just say half those things just cause we were about to die?”

“No.” Bassa thought for a second, palming the akul-tooth necklace again, gazing at it. She moved her arm, jostling Daze to lift both hands and undo the latch of the necklace in the gap between her neck and rear montral.

“You never take that off, what are you doing?” asked Daze.

“Here,” Bassa said. She lifted the necklace and placed it around the human’s neck. The chain was far too long for her, the tooth settling half way down her body.

“What is this for?

“Shilian traditions are a lot more violent. I always liked the story of how your Dad proposed to your Papa in the Lunisian way more. Didn’t he give him a basket of vegetables?”

Daze blinked dazedly.

“Love, I’m asking you to marry me,” clarified Bassa.

_“What?_ You really meant what you said?”

Bassa nodded. With a shriek. Daze threw herself into her arms, suddenly wide awake and excited. She pulled back abruptly, face striken.

“I don’t have anything in exchange, Bassa! Lunisian proposal has both parties bring something to prove their commitment to marriage- _ahh_.”

To Bassa’s amusement, Daze began rummaging through all her pockets, including the ones in her black vest, with the fervour of a child on Life Day.

“Is that a yes?”

“Shut up.”

A ration bar, several disk drives and some ribbon were piled onto the stone between them. The last thing to emerge was a small handful of wires and scrapped computer components, which Daze stared at menacingly, as though the insentient metal personally offended her.

“You’re going to have to give me some time to find something better-”

Bassa took the wires and components from her hands. “You know, I can probably make a nice new headpiece with these.”

“Absolutely _not_ , you gave me your akul tooth, that’s not equal to junk,” complained Daze, looking scandalised.

“No, don’t you se“The tooth symbolises my strength and willingness to fight to protect and provide for you. That’s what I’m bringing to this thing. And these,” Bassa held up the pile of scrap, “Show how smart you are, and adept with technology. That helped you find the exhaust port in the Death Star today, which saved everyone. That’s what you’re bringing- brains, and beauty, of course.”

“You pulled that out of your arse,” Daze said, but she was blushing. “Look, just give me a few hours to find something else, and-”

“Nope, too bad. Togrutans take no hesitation or redoes in their proposals.”

“I thought you said we were doing this the Lunisian way?”

“We’re a combination. A package deal. What do you say, See, you gonna marry me or not?” asked Bassa with a shit eating grin.

In response, Daze leaned in and kissed her. It was a slow kiss, gentle and with the slightest hint of tongue, and Bassa relished it like she was a dehydrated traveller that had crash landed on a desert planet.

“We better think about heading in, the ceremony is going to start soon,” Daze said, after a few tender minutes.

Bassa stood, pulling her fiancé up with her.

“So I’m guessing this means you really don’t want to leave anymore?” asked Daze.

“No,” Bassa said after a moment’s hesitation. “No. Staying is the right thing to do. I want to help defeat the Empire. I’m still going to do everything I can to keep you safe, though, so don’t you dare start thinking about doing any field missions without me.”

“Only if you promise to always come back safe to me when you go out.”

“I will.”

They stood a second longer, hand in hand, and then turned to climb back through the window and into the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to my collaborators! StardustGirl created the moodboard edit at the start of this chapter!
> 
> I'm so glad I got this done, it was a lot of effort and I have massive respect for long form fic writers, because I am not one of those.
> 
> I'm just so hyped that my daughters finally get to be full realised in their first fic. I enjoyed writing this fic a lot, despite how much of a slog it was at times.
> 
> Lastly, thanks so much to you for reading this! If you have any questions about the characters or what you thought of the story, please talk to me, I would love to talk more about Daze and Bassa. I have so much of their story planned out, and you only got hints of it in this fic!


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